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The steady rustling of pages was the only sound that accompanied the rhythmic ticking of the clock in their dimly lit room. Alhaitham sat at his desk, posture relaxed but mind fully immersed in the book before him. The text was dense, rich with philosophical discourse, something that normally commanded his undivided attention. He was at the story’s peak, the pivotal moment where everything would fall into place—yet, despite his efforts, his eyes kept straying elsewhere.
Kaveh was sprawled out on their shared bed, tangled in the sheets, his body limp with exhaustion. His golden hair was a soft, unkempt halo against the pillow, strands slipping over his closed eyes, illuminated by the warm glow of the bedside lamp. His lips were slightly parted, and the slow, steady rise and fall of his chest gave away the depth of his sleep. It was a rare sight—one that Alhaitham found himself unwillingly drawn to, again and again.
He had planned to read, truly, and yet his focus wavered every time Kaveh shifted, even slightly. The book in his hands suddenly felt unimportant in comparison to the quiet, unconscious beauty resting just a few feet away. He allowed himself a small indulgence, lingering on the shape of Kaveh’s face, the faint traces of fatigue still visible in the shadows beneath his eyes. Even in sleep, his presence filled the room with warmth, something indescribable yet inescapable.
Alhaitham had never been one to waste time on unnecessary sentimentality, yet when it came to Kaveh, logic and reason often fell second to something deeper. Something softer.
He tore his gaze away, forcing himself to focus on the book once more. But just as he settled back into the words, a delicate sound caught his attention.
A whimper.
It was faint, nearly swallowed by the quiet hum of the night, but it sent a sharp pang through Alhaitham’s chest. His eyes immediately snapped to Kaveh.
Something in him stirred—instinctive, protective.
The shift in Kaveh’s expression was subtle at first—a twitch of his brow, a small furrow that deepened with every passing second. Then, a single tear slipped down, catching the dim light like a falling star.
Alhaitham’s breath hitched.
His sharp eyes, trained to catch even the smallest details, took in everything—the slight tremble of Kaveh’s lips, the way his fingers curled into the sheets as if searching for something, someone. Another tear welled up, clinging to his lashes before trailing down.
“Must be a nightmare,” Alhaitham thought, his chest tightening at the sight.
Kaveh, so radiant in the waking hours, was now fragile and unguarded in sleep, lost in whatever cruel dream had gripped him. Alhaitham had never put much stock into emotions, had never been the type to console with honeyed words or meaningless reassurances. But this—this quiet suffering—was something he couldn’t ignore.
Before he could think, he was already moving.
The chair scraped softly against the floor as he stood, his usually silent steps making the floorboards creak ever so slightly as he approached the bed. Just as he reached the edge, Kaveh’s breath hitched. His eyes fluttered open, still hazy with sleep, his lashes damp with unshed tears.
For a moment, he didn’t seem fully there, his gaze unfocused, his lips parted as though he had been about to call for someone in his dream. And then, he saw Alhaitham.
A shaky breath. A whisper, raw and delicate:
“Haiyi…”
Alhaitham didn’t respond—not with words, at least. He simply stood there, watching Kaveh with an unreadable expression. But his eyes, usually sharp and impassive, softened as they took in the remnants of Kaveh’s distress.
Kaveh blinked again, fresh tears threatening to spill, but Alhaitham was quicker.
His fingers, warm and calloused from years of handling books and weapons alike, brushed against Kaveh’s cheek, catching the tear before it could fall. His touch was gentle, reverent in a way he’d never admit aloud.
Kaveh, still half-lost in the remnants of his dream, leaned into it instinctively.
Alhaitham let him.
He was a man of discipline, of logic, of carefully measured actions. He had just been reading a book he swore he wouldn’t put down until the chapter was finished.
And yet—
“Haiyi… come to bed?”
...
The book, the desk, the very concept of self-restraint—they all ceased to exist in that moment. With a quiet sigh, he peeled back the covers and slid into bed without hesitation. The second he did, Kaveh wasted no time, pressing himself against Alhaitham’s chest with a quiet hum of satisfaction. His arms wound lazily around Alhaitham’s waist, and his face tucked perfectly into the crook of his neck, as if he had always belonged there.
Alhaitham let out a slow breath, feeling the warmth of Kaveh’s body seep into his own. He wasn’t used to softness, not like this. But with Kaveh, it felt natural—inevitable, even.
A faint smile ghosted over his lips. His hand found its way to Kaveh’s back, tracing slow, soothing circles against the fabric of his nightshirt. Kaveh’s breathing evened out, the last remnants of his nightmare melting away in the comfort of Alhaitham’s presence.
“You’re okay,” Alhaitham murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. His fingers moved up, threading through golden locks, smoothing them back with the gentlest of touches. “I’ve got you.”
Kaveh made a soft noise, somewhere between a sigh and a pleased hum. Alhaitham couldn’t help himself—he leaned down, pressing a feather-light kiss to Kaveh’s temple.
Then another, on the bridge of his nose.
And another, just beneath his eye, where a tear had been moments ago.
Kaveh’s lips curved into a sleepy smile, and Alhaitham swore his heart clenched at the sight.
“Hmm… what’s gotten into you?” Kaveh mumbled, voice laced with drowsy amusement.
Alhaitham huffed quietly, though there was no real annoyance behind it. “You were crying in your sleep. What kind of partner would I be if I didn’t comfort you?”
Kaveh’s grip around him tightened. “Mmh… lucky me,” he murmured, pressing himself impossibly closer.
Alhaitham let out a breathy chuckle. If anyone outside these walls saw him now, they’d think he’d lost his mind. The ever-composed, ever-pragmatic Alhaitham, reduced to this—holding his lover close, whispering sweet nothings into his hair, pressing kisses to his forehead like some lovesick fool.
But he didn’t care.
“Baby,” he murmured, his lips brushing against Kaveh’s brow. “You want kisses?”
Kaveh groaned, half-laughing, half-mortified. “Oh, not this again—”
Alhaitham cut him off with a kiss to the tip of his nose.
Then one to his cheek.
Then another, softer this time, at the corner of his lips.
Kaveh made a noise of protest, but his giggles betrayed him. “Alhaitham,” he whined, squirming just a little, though he made no real effort to escape. “Why are you like this?”
Alhaitham hummed, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze. His expression was unreadable, but his teal eyes gleamed with something undeniably fond.
“I could stop,” he mused, tilting his head. “If you really want me to.”
Kaveh hesitated for exactly one second.
“…I didn’t say that.”
Alhaitham smirked.
And with that, he kissed him properly—slow, lingering, endlessly gentle.
Kaveh melted, all complaints forgotten, all bad dreams erased. The world outside didn’t matter. The only thing that existed was this—the quiet intimacy, the warmth of their shared breath, the way Alhaitham held him as if he were something precious.
When they finally pulled away, Kaveh yawned, eyelids drooping once more. “Mmm… ‘m sleepy…”
Alhaitham tucked the blankets around him snugly, placing one last kiss on his forehead. “Then sleep, love.”
Kaveh smiled, and within moments, he was out again, his breathing soft and even.
Alhaitham stayed awake a little longer, just watching him, memorizing the peaceful expression on his face. Then, with one last deep breath, he allowed himself to close his eyes, letting sleep pull him under—right where he belonged, wrapped in Kaveh’s warmth.
For the first time that night, Alhaitham didn’t spare a single thought for his book.